


Begin Again

by Michelleleahhh



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Consensual Infidelity, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Forbidden
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 12:38:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4787558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michelleleahhh/pseuds/Michelleleahhh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The problem is that he’s married. No matter how much Katniss wants him or needs him, he’s forever forbidden. Forever out of her reach. And even if Peeta wants her like she wants him, they’re vowed to other people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Begin Again

 

 

Begin Again was written for Prompts in Panem, R7D7 Thorns. This is completely unbeta'd soooo all mistakes are mine. 

Please enjoy!

 

* * *

 

Katniss doesn’t remember when or why she started hating Peeta Mellark. All she knows is that she does.

 

Since the day Peeta Mellark moved next door. She felt irritated, like it was some type of nuisance when he entered their neighborhood. He pulled up in his silver Pacifica with his blonde wife and blue-eyed daughter, and all Katniss felt was hatred. 

 

She still feels hatred.

 

Or maybe, it was after Gale came home that first night. After their silent dinner. After he finished quickly on top of her in their dimly lit bedroom. He tucked her under his arm and held her close. And she almost felt like before. 

 

His cheek rested on her knotted braid. His lips pressed against her temple, and for the first time in a long time she felt loved, needed. Then it quickly receded with the waves of pleasure; similar to all the other nights it quickly slipped like sand between her fingers.

 

“I saw the new neighbors moved in today,” Gale whispered into the dark room. 

 

Katniss simply hummed in response, her eyes closed and head rested on his chest. “You should see their minivan.” 

 

“I saw it,” he chuckled lightly, his finger trailing over her arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake. She could hear how thick and tired his voice was. The rhythm of his breath almost lulled her to sleep, until his chest rose suddenly from a quick breath. “I also saw their kid…” he trailed off. 

 

Katniss’ eyes snapped open, her body tensed, knowing what was exactly about to come next. “Gale,” she started, not necessarily needing to finish the sentence. Her tone was a stiff warning for her husband. She remained rigid in his embrace, too afraid to move a single muscle, and when he shifted to look at her, she kept her eyes trained on his chest. 

 

“Catnip, it’s been a year.”

 

She sat up and gathered the sheets around her, subconsciously aware of her own nudity even after what they just did. “I know how long it’s been.” 

 

“Then maybe-“ 

 

“I’m not going to have this conversation again.” She snapped, standing up and taking the grey sheets with her, “I’m not… I’m not ready yet.” Her voice choked on the words, shaking from her fear or maybe just from memories that don’t need to reoccur. She quickly shrugged on a top and dropped the sheets below her. 

 

“I’ll be on the couch,” she muttered and walked through the door. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

She hates Peeta Mellark.

 

And the noise he brings with him. He began the renovation on Old Sae’s two story Cape Cod house. The entire house was gutted. But it was the noise that bothered her. The scratching furniture and the squealing daughter. 

 

Sae’s house comforted her. Brought her solace one too many times. She’d hide there until she was well enough to make it home. But Peeta’s work tore the memories from her and made her say goodbye again.

 

Because of the noises, it’s almost a daily occurrence that he catches her spying. She hates that he waves at her with a welcoming smile plastered on his face, even when she pretends not to watch him. It’s like he just wants her to see him. Like he just wants her to be the friendly housewife next door. Well, she’s happy to say that she is not. 

 

But, more than anything, she hates that she waves back, maybe even forcefully smiles. It almost feels normal. Like they have their own secret relationship between them without even saying a word. But they don’t. They have nothing but short morning meetings. 

 

And she hates that sweat pours down his chest even on a freezing Thursday morning at the end of April, making his shirt cling to him. Like he just ran seven miles when he probably only jogged around the block. He’s sweaty and disgusting.

 

He’s staring at her… again. The reclusive housewife next door who never says a word. He’s probably creeped out by her. Then his daughter, dressed in a Cinderella gown, tackles her father’s leg. 

 

But Katniss is annoyed by his daughter’s costume and her small arms that wave for her father to pick her up. She hates how much she looks like Prim.

 

She hates how perfect they seems.

 

But, she reminds herself, no one’s perfect.

 

* * *

 

There’s a knock on the door. A soft and tepid knock, like it’s scared to intrude on her Wednesday afternoon. Typically, she’d be out on a hike, maybe hunting in the woods or sitting at Abernathy’s with a glass in hand, but today she’s home. Staring at the TV in her flannel and sipping a bottle of Allagash White. It’s five o’clock somewhere. At least that’s what she tells herself at one in the afternoon. 

 

Everything in her just wants to ignore the knock, relax and see if this guy on Jerry Springer really is the father. But the knock is there. Lightly resounding in the back of her mind. So she stands, slams her bottle down on the coffee table, and walks to the door. 

 

When she swings the door open, all she sees is blinding blonde hair. She scowls naturally at the man who stands in front of her. 

 

“Um-Hi,” He begins with a smile,“I’m Peeta Mellark, I recently moved next door.” He puts his hand out for a shake. When she just raises her eyebrows in response, skeptically staring at his palm, he moves it to scratch the back of his head.

 

She nods slowly in understanding, tearing her eyes to look at him, “Hi.” He doesn’t say anything and instead stares at her. Annoying her. She shivers unconsciously at his heavy gaze, passing it off as a wind chill.“Can I help you?”  

 

He chuckles awkwardly and mutters something under his breath, as he stands outside in the crisp May air. “So my wife and I are new to the area. We just moved from upstate… Which I’m sure you’ve realized by now.” At her blank stare, he chuckles again. “Sorry. Anyway, my wife and I wanted to know if you and your husband wanted to come for dinner.” 

 

Katniss folds her arms across her chest, instantly defensive. “What makes you think I’m married.” 

 

His eyes widen slightly, “Well I spoke to your husband this morning, while I was getting ready to take my daughter to school. Gale… right?” 

 

Oh. Of course he saw Gale. She ignores any type of apology piling in her throat. “Right.”

 

A slight pause follows, their eyes staring at each other locked in a foreign trance. As if they were both too afraid to move.

 

“Well, anyway,” Peeta darts his eyes to the ground a light flush overwhelming his cheeks. “Gale said to check with you if tomorrow night worked with your schedule. You know, just to get to know the neighbors?” 

 

She shrugs dismissively. They’ve never really interacted with neighbors, let alone neighbors their own age. She always felt like it would be a problem to be friends with them. Then, at the same time, what’s the harm in dinner. Isn’t this what Gale wants, to be close with new people. For her to socialize. Get out. Live a little. 

 

Maybe, just maybe, if Gale saw their daughter up close he’d realize what terrible parents they’d make and stop bugging her about children. 

 

And it’s that last thought that makes her decision. “Tomorrow’s fine.”

 

“So, I’ll see you at six?” He asks, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

“Should I bring anything?” 

 

“Just yourself,” Peeta smiles good-naturedly. For a second he looks like a young boy, no older than twenty-something. She wonders how old he is. If he’s as young as he looks. But he has a child, a daughter that can walk, and from the princess costumes she regularly wears, one who picks her own clothing.

 

“Booze it is then.” 

 

His eyebrows rise animatedly, “Be careful, you’re speaking my language now.” Katniss smiles slightly at him, and tosses her braid over her shoulder. 

 

“Beer or wine?” She asks. When he smiles widely and shakes his head in a disbelieving kind of way, she guesses, “Don’t tell me tequila.” 

 

“God no.” He laughs heavily, “I haven’t drank hard liquor since Izz-my daughter was born. Whatever you want to bring is good for us.” When his grin grows again she wonders if his cheeks ever get tired. 

 

“Okay then.” She plants her hands on the door frame, itching to lock him out and block his smile from her mind. 

 

“Okay, well bye…?” He asks, cerulean eyes begging a question.

 

“Katniss,” she gives him, pulling her braid back over her shoulders because she’s suddenly desperate to do something with her hands.

 

“Bye, Katniss.” 

 

“Bye, Peeta.”

 

Katniss shuts the door, and leans against it. 

 

She realizes now why hates him. 

* * *

 

When Gale comes home that night, Katniss is cooking his favorite meal. Beef stew. He comes up behind her, his hands planted on the counter caging her in his arms. He’s warm and certainly heavy around her. His presence overwhelms her in the worst kind of way. The kind of way that makes everything tense and terrifying. The type of presence that just makes everything worse. Makes her angry.

 

When he looks over her shoulder to see what she’s cooking, she can feel his smile. “What do I owe this to?” 

 

“Just thought you deserved a surprise,” she answers him. He leans in and kisses the crook of her neck, before pushing off the counter and grabbing the half-empty bottle of cheap gin. 

 

“God, what are you listening to?” Gale’s face scrunches when the song changes to James Taylor. 

 

She rolls her eyes, adding some flour to thicken the broth, “James Taylor. If you had taste in music you wouldn’t ask,” she judges. 

 

After he pours himself a two-finger glass over ice and takes a sip, she continues, “Our new neighbor stopped by today.”

 

“Peeta?” Gale guesses, taking another sip… or gulp, depending on her adjective. 

 

Katniss merely nods, leaning closer down to the oven. “Said he talked to you this morning, about coming over?” She can hear her tone, how it’s coming out judgmental and angry.

 

Gale shrugs adding club soda to his drink and another finger of gin. “Told him to come and talk to you.” 

 

“Well he did,” she huffs, turning away from the stove. “Couldn’t you have warned me?” 

 

“About what? Our scary new neighbor coming over to invite us for dinner?” He asks with raised eyebrows a smug smile on his features. “Absolutely terrifying.” 

 

“What if I was doing something?” 

 

Gale shakes his head and puts the glass down. “Like drinking at Abernathy’s?” 

 

Katniss grits her teeth together, and ignores his jab. Seething in place she turns back to the stew. Fuck him. She bites her lips and wills herself not to yell, not to break. “We’re going over tomorrow night.” 

 

“Cat,” he starts, moving over to her. “I think this… them moving in, is going to be a good thing. Maybe it’ll turn our luck around. You know? Get us out of whatever _this_  is. Maybe have a b-”

 

“I’m not going to be the wife who has a baby to fix her marriage,” Katniss spills in a heated tone. She shakes her head and removes the wooden spoon from the pot. “I don’t think anyone can fix this but us, Gale. I need to lay down. Enjoy your dinner.”

 

She leaves the kitchen, her head drawn down and he never calls for her to stay. He’s learned by now how to deal with this. 

 

He’s learned to just leave her alone.

 

* * *

 

Their walk over to the Mellarks’ is painless and quiet. Katniss carries two bottles of wine, her hands filled, while Gale’s swing at his sides. Their lawn is freshly planted, like someone just finished designing it, even in the beginning of May. Daisies line the pathway to the house and a primrose bush is kept in large planter to the side. 

 

Katniss knows he sees it too. But instead of saying something, Gale grabs a bottle from her and awkwardly wraps his arm around her petite shoulders. As if his touch could fix it, but he should know by now he can’t. 

 

After their subtle knock, Peeta answers the door. 

 

“Hey,” He smiles, his eyes bouncing between them. “Right on time.” 

 

“Long walk,” Katniss says to him, as Peeta makes room for them to enter.

 

“All of 25 yards,” Peeta quips, smiling oddly. “I hope you guys are okay with salmon. It’s one of my specialties.” Peeta quickly show’s them the place to hang their jackets and takes the bottles into his hand. “Pinot Noir,” he says specifically to Katniss, “It’s like you knew.” He grins at her naturally, his eyes glistening, making her smile softly back.

 

“You’re a cook?” Gale asks, shrugging his leather coat off, oblivious to the exchange.

 

Peeta nods, “I went to culinary school at Johnson & Wales. Not much of a cook now, but I still get to have some fun in the kitchen.” 

 

Suddenly the blonde wife enters the room, apron and all. “Hi,” She greets them, her soft blonde hair cascading down her shoulders. And she genuinely smiles at them. One of those smiles that just looks natural, her blue eyes sparkling in the light. “I’m Madge.” She reaches her hand out, Gale automatically taking it. 

 

They should be models, Peeta and Madge. With their blonde hair and large smiles. They’re like the American dream, in this house with wood floors and soft beige walls filled with artwork. 

 

“I’m Gale,” Katniss’ husband greets, attempting to smile. He drops her hand and gestures to her, “And this is my wife, Katniss.” 

 

Madge quickly tucks her hair behind her ear revealing diamond studs, then puts her hand out for Katniss. 

 

Taking a deep breath in, Katniss quickly grasps her hand. “Hello.”

 

“It’s very nice to meet you two.” Just as she finishes her sentence a flurry of pale skin darts into the room towards Peeta. 

 

“Daddy!” She shrieks. Unlike most of the times Katniss has seen her, she’s dressed normally; not a Cinderella costume in sight. 

 

“Sorry,” Madge apologizes as Peeta lifts his daughter into the air and excuses himself to the kitchen with the wine and the child.  “It’s hard to find a babysitter when you’ve only just moved to a new area.” 

 

Katniss smiles stiffly. Terrified that these people will realize just how terrible she is around children. 

 

“It’s no problem. We love kids, right Catnip?” Gale dismisses, elbowing her in the side to which she forces a smile. Madge leads the way into the kitchen, a large open space with relatively new appliances. 

 

There are few things in life Katniss hates. One of them is change, and obvious change at that. The type of change that she can’t prepare herself for. Immediately Katniss is slapped with freshly painted walls and stainless steel appliances, with marble countertops and kitchen islands. This is not how Sae left her kitchen. 

 

She hates the Mellarks. And their changes. 

 

But then she hears it playing softly from the built in iHome. “Is that James Taylor?”

 

She watches as Peeta unscrews the wine they brought over, and fills three glasses generously.“Yeah!” he says excitedly. “it’s literally the only thing I can cook too.” 

 

“Same,” Katniss admits, while Gale lets out an audible groan and complains about Katniss’ obsession with him. 

 

“Well, Katniss is right, he’s great,” Peeta says with a smile and wink in her direction. He offers Gale and Katniss each a glass before taking his own. “Madge doesn’t drink,” he tells them when Katniss gives him an odd look. “She calls it wasted calories.”

 

“Now that’s not true,” Madge defends laughing slightly as she fills herself a glass of lemon water. Even their water pitcher is fancy with crystal imprints on the side. “Everything is find in moderation. When I had Isabella I blew up like one of those Good-Air blimps.” 

 

“That’s true,” Peeta nods at his wife in good fun. 

 

“You’re the worst!” Madge giggles, “But seriously, I would kill for your figure Katniss.” 

 

Katniss doubts it. Looking at Madge she seems perfect, trim. Like she belongs in a J-Crew magazine or on a preppy sail boat, with calculatedly wind blown hair and diamonds, and large smiles. She’s curvy and supple, with collar bones and breasts. Katniss… well, as she looks down at herself… she just has the bones. 

 

There’s a beat of silence as a blush rises to Katniss’ cheeks. She takes a large gulp of wine, before putting the glass down. Peeta turns around as a timer goes off on the oven. 

 

“You’d never know that this girl eats more than most men I know.” Gale goads, as if it’s his own accomplishment. 

 

“Tell me your life secrets,” Madge mock-whispers. 

 

“I hike at the wildlife reservation,” She shrugs, taking another sip of her drink. 

 

Madge groans out, “Oh god don’t say that.” 

 

“Really?” Peeta asks, his interest peaked as he turns off the simmers on the stove. “I used to hike in college.” 

 

“You should take him Cat,” Gale suggests, grimacing when she side-eyes him. Only Peeta seems to be nodding from the possibility of going hiking with her.

 

“Please do.” Madge pleads, “He needs to get out. All he does is try and make me take walks with him. I hate walking” 

 

“That is also true. If you ever want a partner, I’d love to go.” Peeta’s laughter turns to a look of sincerity. “Well dinner’s ready.” 

 

* * *

 

Later that night, when she’s wrapped in a mess of blankets and Gale has shifted over to the other edge of their bed, Katniss thinks about dinner. She thinks about Peeta and Madge. Their perfect life, with the house, and the kid, and the money. Perhaps it’s why she’s up at midnight comparing her marriage to theirs. 

 

Comparing Gale to Peeta. 

 

He’s the perfect husband, Peeta. He can cook for one. (Something Katniss takes at high value.) He stays at home, while Madge is the vice-president of some corporate hedge fund in the city. It’s also obvious how attached their daughter is to him, while Isabella’s aloof to her mother. 

 

It pains Katniss to say, but their daughter is actually kind of sweet. Well behaved. Isabella only looked around the table with wide blue eyes. She didn’t try to talk to Katniss at all. It was uncomfortable, and oddly flattering, to catch Isabella staring. She would immediately look back down at her plate. 

 

But, it is like Madge is a stranger. Peeta and her barely touched, barely even looked at each other. Someone else may not have noticed, but Katniss did. 

 

Katniss knows what a strained marriage looks like. Only, Peeta and Madge love each other. It is obvious with their playful banter. 

 

There’s no way Gale still loves her. There’s no way she still loves him. Maybe if she had the strength she’d leave him. But she can’t, she’s too crippled and broken, dependent on everything Gale has provided her with.

 

Everything anyone could ever want is nestled in that house 25 yards from her, and yet she just can’t capture it and claim it for her own. 

 

It’s like Katniss is drowning, like she’s been drowning for the past eight months, just struggling against the tides for air. Everything is falling apart, and she can’t make it stop. 

 

She’s terrified. 

* * *

 

She’s not spying. Not technically. Technically, she’s gardening on all fours, getting dirty… and looking over the Mellarks’ freshly planted Leyland Cypress bushes.

 

And staring at Peeta Mellark paint from their porch. Katniss quickly looks away, back to their green grass then down at her hands. Her grass is dead, like a straw color, their’s is green. Too

green, she decides. Like someone had planted artificial grass. It’s the shade of green she’s only ever seen in movies, or highly saturated photoshopped pictures.  It’s been a month since the dinner. One month. Other than the few hi-byes, while he’s coming home and she’s going hiking, they haven’t interacted. Life went back to normal for Katniss.

 

She peeks over at Peeta again, as he drags his paintbrush over the canvas and stares at his daughter try to climb the tree. She doesn’t ignore his hands, their steady and sure movements. His eyes scan the property, every now and then, as if he forgets where he is. Then, his eyes land on hers. (She swears she can see the blue in them all the way from where she kneels.)

 

She’s heard that when you’re caught staring you should keep looking and pretend there is something in the distance, but instead she quickly drops her gaze. A heated flush arises, obviously a fault of the unusual April heat. 

 

From the corner of her eyes she can see his wave, his measured steps to the edge of his porch that’s closest to her. He rests his side on a column, folds his arms against his chest, and looks down at her from his deck.

 

“Hi Neighbor,” He greets with a large smile. 

 

She stands in a swift motion, pushing away the fallen pieces from her braid, and plasters a smile that may just look like a grimace on her face. With measured steps, Katniss walks to the edge of her property, subconsciously rubbing the dirt off her hands.

 

“Hi,” she says, putting her hands over her eyes to block the sun. 

 

“It’s a beautiful day,” Peeta admires the sky above him, before quickly looking back her. “I’m surprised you’re not out hiking.” 

 

Katniss nods, “I had some gardening to do.” She juts her thumb behind her and points to the dead bushes that she’s removing. 

 

“Spring cleaning. The worst.” 

 

“Almost as bad as spring allergies.”

 

Peeta stands strait, and holds up one finger. He quickly maneuvers himself down the stairs and jogs over to her. He’s standing in front of her when he speaks next. “I thought it was just me. The allergies are terrible down here, I’ve been dying.” 

 

“Yeah,” she agrees. “But, if you eat local honey it should go away within a week.” 

 

“Really?” He quickly looks behind him, as if searching for Isabella. Once he sees her, Peeta turns back to Katniss, smiling gracefully at her with his strait smile. 

 

His hair is damp in the roots, probably from the unusual heat wave of April. It clings to his forehead in curls, making his eyes look much bluer and his lips much more red. 

 

“One of natures dirty secrets. There’s a woman down at the Hob that sells it. Buy the raw type.” 

 

“That’s the farmers market, right?” He quickly shoves the curled hair from his face. 

 

She shamefully decides that he’s handsome, the boyish type. Like a golden retriever, especially with the way his hair flows over the tips of his ears, and the way his smile just engulfs his face. He’s innocent, and yet his square jaw makes him look more rugged. 

 

Katniss nods stiffly, her eyes flittering somewhere past him. “They have great stuff. Seriously.” 

 

“You can take me,” he suggests, grinning widely.“After our hiking trip. If you ever take me.”

 

She scowls when she feels an uncomfortable amount of blood rush to her cheeks, flustering her. 

 

“Say if I did  _humor_  you, when would you want to go?” 

 

“Next Wednesday?”

 

Katniss shrugs, mocking indifference and planning the day in her head. She hates that her stomach drops at his suggestion, at his words. 

 

Suddenly a mess of blonde hair and limbs flies to Peeta’s legs, almost making him fall. After a small grunt, he effortlessly lifts Isabella onto his hip. She sees Katniss and quickly looks back at her dad, her eyes unusually large. 

 

“What is it, Izzie?” He asks when she bites her lips and leans closer to his ear. Her hand covers her mouth and she darts her eyes to Katniss then back to her father. His smile grows when he listens to what she whispers, then turns and murmurs back to her.

 

He drops his daughter carefully to the ground. Her feet plant and she haphazardly fumbles over to Katniss.

 

Katniss can feel her eyes grow wide and her skin crawl when the young girl pulls on her arm. She quickly kneels down, coming face to face with her fear. 

 

The girl leans in and whispers, “You look like Esmerelda.” 

 

Katniss immediately thinks this child is mad. But after seeing her in a Cinderella costume on more than one occasion Katniss realizes it’s a compliment. She smiles at Isabella, before leaning back to look at her fully. Her eyes are bright like Peeta’s, but her hair is definitely more honey, like Madge’s tone. 

 

And she’s sweet, slightly biting her bottom lip as if she were afraid Katniss was going to yell at her. 

 

“And you look like Cinderella.” 

 

Izzie’s eyes alight with hope, turning into round saucers, and her hands come to play with Katniss’ braid. “Really?” Her question is full of hope.

 

Katniss nods exaggeratedly, watching as the girl twirls the braid among her minuscule fingers.

 

“Izzie go play while I finish up with Katniss. Then we’ll have snacks.” 

 

“Gummies,” Isabella asks sanguinely. 

 

Her father nods and rolls his eyes at Katniss. The girl runs off back to the tree she was trying to climb. “Sorry, she has a thing for Disney.” 

 

Katniss shakes her head. “My sister did too.” 

 

“You have a sister?” He asks, and her eyes fall, swiftly nodding her head in quick juts.

 

Willing herself. 

 

Peeta remains oblivious and runs his hands steadily through his hair. “I have two terrible brothers, a damn nightmare really.” Katniss nods empathetically, not that she really understands it. “Does Wednesday work for you?”

 

“I guess.” 

 

“God, don’t sound so excited,” he laughs. “You can say no.” 

 

The problem is, that she doesn’t want to say no. She actually likes Peeta Mellark, even with all of the things that irritate her. He’s like Novocain, numbing. He makes her forget everything, and for once, that’s nice. If she says it out loud, though, that makes it real. And she’d rather live in a pretense of charity then the truth of greed. 

 

“So you paint?” She changes the subject, noting the dry paint on his hands and the splatters of green on his jeans. 

 

Peeta nods, “I wanted to be an art major in school, but I realized the job security was absolute shit.” 

 

“So you chose culinary school.”

 

“I never said I valued logic.” Unlike his other laughs, this one overwhelms him, starting from his stomach and spreads to infect her. Making Katniss smile slightly, “Wow.” 

 

“What?” 

 

“You’re smiling,” he points out. Her smile quickly tempers into a thin line. “Never mind then. So, Wednesday? Izzie starts day camp.” 

 

“Wednesday,” she agrees. 

 

He nods with that smile plastered on his face again, as he turns to grab his daughter. But he does look back at her. As if to make sure she was real. 

 

* * *

 

The night after their first hike she’s pretty sure she hears a fight from next door. It’s not loud, and obnoxious like hers and Gales’, but it’s there. With slamming doors and raised voices. Maybe it’s because she’s taking out the garbage when she hears Madge’s high pitched voice laced with venom floating in the air. But when she hears it, she can’t escape it. It’s almost as if it follows her around for the rest of the night, wondering if she’s the reason for the fight. 

 

But that’s ridiculous. Katniss quickly dismisses the thought before the seed can even plant, making her feel guilty. Instead she has a glass of wine and relaxes in the bath tub, surrounded by vanilla suds. Stubbornly admitting what she figured out a long time ago. 

 

Peeta was actually great company. Sure he had a loud gait, and scared the wildlife away, but he kept her entertained, kept her keenly aware of the world around her. He softened her.

 

Usually she goes into the woods to forget. To just look at colors blur together and get lost in thought. But with Peeta, it was like a hyper awareness. He brought everything to a vivid color, making her remember but in a careful way. 

 

And at the end of the day, they made plans for the next Wednesday. Like it would become some type of ritual. Only now, after the trill voice and slamming doors, she doesn’t know if that’s true. 

 

She wonders if she’s suppose to tell Gale they went together. 

 

He probably wouldn’t even care. 

 

* * *

 

“We met in high school,” Peeta confesses some weeks later. 

 

Their feet dangle off the top cliff as Peeta and Katniss hang above the the town below them. He has a sketch pad in his lap while she just lays on her back staring at the clouds. It’s become a ritual of theirs, spending stolen moments on the wildlife reserve. She hasn’t gone to Haymitch’s bar in a while, instead Peeta has become her escape.

 

“So did Gale and I.” 

 

Peeta twists his head awkwardly to the side to try and catch her eye. “But  _you_ didn’t get pregnant your senior year.” 

 

“No I didn’t,” she agrees, frowning slightly at the mere thought. Instead, she married Gale out of fear. For survival. She had spent her entire life with him, and when he asked her, she was too afraid to say no. What if she lost him? What if she lost her best friend? She had lost too much in her life to lose Gale too.

 

Of course she loved Gale. In her own, independent way, and he loved her in the typical way. Her love though, it was the type of love that was easy and comfortable, there was never unbridled passion with him. It was never the type of love that couldn’t be controlled. The type that consumed her. 

 

Peeta swivels around, turning his back on the scene below him and tosses his sketch book to his other side. He puts his feet out in front of him and looks down at her. Pointedly gazing at her.

 

She quickly lifts herself to her forearms to meet his gaze. 

 

“I offered to drop out of school, to do anything she wanted. But what she wanted the normal life,” he pauses. “College. So I took nightly classes, while she took day classes. Culinary was one of the only programs offered at night. Well that or sociology.” Peeta frowns, his fingers dancing in the dirt and rocks. “Not that I don’t love cooking, I do.”

 

“Of course,” she interjects.

 

“It’s just that she makes me feel so…” Small? Useless? 

 

She gets it. 

 

She really gets it. Because she’s seen his paintings and his drawings, at least the ones he’s let her see. His artwork is absolutely beautiful. And Madge has taken it from him, taken it all.

 

He loves his daughter. Katniss can tell by the way he talks about her while they hike. How he picks flowers for her and plans to give them to her after she gets back from her day camp. But even if he loves his daughter, he can still feel all those things. Because his life is now a useless sketch pad, not even good enough to be admired by his wife.  

 

“Do you ever draw people?”  

 

Peeta flips absently through his sketch book. “When I have a willing subject.” 

 

Katniss sits up to full height, quickly putting the bangs that escaped her braid behind her plain ear. She stares at him, even though his eyes are focused on the book dejectedly in front of him. She wants to see his eyes, the ones from when he first moved in. When the light reflected off of them, when he looked so happy and optimistic. 

 

“Draw me.” 

 

His gaze quickly snaps up to hers, “What?”

 

“Draw me,” she repeats, dropping her weightless arms in her lap. 

 

“Oh,” he pauses, looking around as if to see if anyone heard her. Peeta clears his throat before pulling his 3B pencil from the loops in the pad. He chuckles awkwardly, when he brings the pencil to his paper, “Okay.”

 

“I mean, if you want to. You don’t have to.”

 

“No. I-I would love to.” He looks up and studies her, his eyes squinting as if trying to see her clearly.

 

She smiles faintly as Peeta crosses his legs and sits closer to her. He starts sketching and she watches as his hands move steadily across the paper. She doesn’t know if she’s supposed to look at the shapes, or stay forward. So, instead, she looks at him. 

 

At his eyes when the bounce between her and the paper, how they lighten in the sun or when he glances at her. She stares at his mouth. At his tongue trapped in between his teeth, as he concentrates. How his lips move with the shapes he’s sketching, as if saying the words aloud transfers them to the pages. She watches his cheeks, his jaw, everything about him, and a heat traces over her skin that she knows isn’t from the heat. 

 

There would have been a time where Katniss would push him away. Do anything to disappear from this kind of attention, but now, it’s all she craves. She craves him. His presence, his warmth. His stories about his past that are so oddly close to hers. Maybe it’s because all she knows at home is cold indifference, a tepid marriage that’s comfort turned stiff. Maybe it’s because Peeta’s awakened something in her, something that she thought she had lost in a car accident long ago. 

Suddenly a hand floats over her hair, and pulls her braid delicately over her shoulder. She realizes it’s Peeta, his hand hovering slightly over her collar bone. “Sorry,” he apologizes when she tenses immediately. 

 

“It’s fine,” she dismisses. Watching his thumb roam delicately over her braid, before dropping it. Her stomach swiftly drops as she watches Peeta smile at her, watches his thumb grasp the pencil that nearly touched her. 

 

“Did you feel that,” he asks looking up at the dark sky above them.

 

What?” She looks up, watching as the clouds swirl lightly in the sky. Just then, she feels a light rain drop fall on her cheek. “Oh, was it suppose to rain today?” 

 

“Not until later,” he says, closing the book and getting up, then he quickly pulls Katniss to her feet. She mutters a thank you, as she hears some of the rain pelt the tree’s leaves around her. 

 

The two of them quickly dart down the path they trekked up, being careful not to slip on the slick rocks below their feet. She watches as Peeta maneuvers down the path of the hill, his gaze focused on his feet below him, not even recognizing that the hill is about to take a swift turn. He could fall off with one misstep. 

 

“Peeta!” she calls, trying grab his attention, and instead sprints ahead to pull swiftly on his arm. He jumps back to her, as she slams into him. His arms wrap around her, steadying them both just on the corner of the path. She hears pebbles fall off the side of the trail. “You were…”

 

His chest is right in front of her, solid like a wall but panting either from exertion or adrenaline. She awkwardly tilts her head to look up at him. His hair wet and clinging to his forehead, but his gaze stares down at her, wild and alive. 

 

“Thank you.” 

 

She feels his hands grasp her back, pressed firmly against her. An indescribable want simmers between her thighs, as his hand runs small circles on her lower back.

 

She watches his lips, how they separate when he sucks in for breath. She watches them, absentmindedly licking her own in the process. And she swears that she feels him lean in, grip her tighter, and hold her closer. She swears his lips get close to her mouth, just a few inches away. She swears it. 

 

But when thunder resounds overhead, making Peeta drop his hands and take a step away from her, she wonders if it was real. Maybe he was just checking to make sure nothing happened to her.

 

“Sorry,” he says. He shakes his head as if to clear the thoughts muddling his brain.

 

She ignores the disappointment and the guilt that follows. Shivering from the rain, she can breath, feeling the rain come down in slick sheets. “You’re good,” she shrugs pushing the braid over her shoulder. 

 

A crack of lightning follows and he quickly grasps her hand, letting her follow him again. Only this time they stay close, their fingers interlocked. 

 

* * *

 

The problem is that they’re married, but not to each other. No matter how much Katniss wants him, he’s forever forbidden, forever out of her reach. She wants him, she may even need him. But no matter how much she wants to be with Peeta, she can’t. Because even if he wants her like she wants him, they’re vowed to other people. 

 

And unlike her husband, she takes her vow seriously. 

* * *

 

“I’m sorry about last time,” he says.

 

They’ve decided today that they’d go farther up the mountain. Try and beat their all-time best climb. It’s a hot and humid July afternoon, and Katniss hasn’t seen one other person on the trail. Not that she’d expect to on the advanced trail on a Wednesday. 

 

They’ve just gotten to the top of the mountain, and from where she stands she can see their typical cliff below them. 

 

Unlike below, there’s wildlife all around them. Everywhere but where they stand is covered in soft green moss, it just rained two days before and everything is alight with color. Even the scattered thorn bushes are bright green. 

 

There’s trees and birds chirping. She closes her eyes, feeling the wind tangle through her loose hair. 

 

Then she hears him.

 

He’s standing next to her when he says it. His face scrunched up like some awkward type of pain. 

 

“What?” She asks, and takes a step back from the cliff.

 

She doesn’t think she hears him properly. 

 

He turns around, looking at the ground. There’s a good few feet between them, but when he finally peers at her, she could be miles from his face and still be able to clearly read him. “I love my wife,” he confesses and a part of her dies at the confession. 

 

“I know.” And she hates that she knows that, because she wishes he wasn’t in love with Madge. Katniss can finally admit that she wants him to love her. She’s never considered herself a romantic, but with Peeta everything clicks. She feels funny and pretty. She’s not too bony, or too anti-social. 

 

She, for some odd reason, feels wanted when she’s with him. She feels… flawless. 

 

Peeta runs his hands through his hair and pulls angrily on the strands. “And, I almost kissed you. Jesus, Katniss. You’re married. And I love my wife and you love your husband. I fucked up. I’m sorry” 

 

Katniss stops listening after he confesses that he almost kissed her. Instead, his sentence repeats in her head like a catchy James Taylor song. She stares at him, as his face gets guilt stricken and his eyes look anywhere but at her. She stares at his lips. 

 

“You wanted to kiss me?” she whispers longingly, and his eyes snap to her. 

 

He nods helplessly.

 

“I wanted you to kiss me,” she admits, for the first time out loud. She wrings her hands in front of her, needing something to do with them. 

 

He peers at her, his eyes never leaving her face. Then she takes one step closer, then another step. And he stays still, frozen in place until she’s standing few inches from him. 

 

“I love Madge,” he reminds her. 

 

Why does he keep reminding her? She knows. “I know.” 

 

“And you love Gale.” 

 

She doesn’t answer, instead she reaches forward and takes his right hand in hers. She brings it to her lips, a magic spark igniting within her. She gently presses his ring finger to her lips, her eyes never leaving his. 

 

He takes a deep breath in, “Katniss, if we do this…”

 

There’s no going back. 

 

He’ll always choose Madge. 

 

There’s so many possibilities to the end of his sentence but she only knows one thing. 

 

“I need you,” she breathes. 

 

Then he sweeps her into his arms, his lips crashing into hers. Hot and Wantonly. He bites her bottom lip, dragging it between his teeth, making her moan. His right hand clamps around her hips, squeezing it gently, and softly runs his fingers under her shirt.

 

His left hand winds itself in her curls, dragging her head closer to his. As if she could get closer. 

 

They are mouths and teeth and tongues and lips. 

 

And her hands are on his chest, in his hair. Finally touching what has been forbidden to her for so long. She revels in it, committing the soft strands to memory. 

 

He pulls his mouth away from hers and kisses along the side of her jaw, leading to the crook in her neck. Peeta’s hands wandering down her back, pressing her chest to his. 

 

Katniss pants for air that does nothing to satiate her. She’s breathless. All from him. He’s hard and muscular, making her wet and needy. He bites down on her neck, sucking the excess skin between his lips. She tugs on his hair, eliciting a soft groan from him.

 

And then he looks at her, peeks at her. A question in his eyes, but he doesn’t have to say a word.

 

She grabs her hand and leads him into a thick wooded area. They don’t need to speak. She turns around and he kisses her again. It’s a soft kiss, their earlier rush is subdued.

 

She hopes he wants this as much as she does.

 

Her hands trail down his chest, feeling the smooth planes. Then her long fingers land on the edge of his shirt. She grasps the cotton material in her hand and lifts it over his head, revealing light skin and a muscular chest. She fans her fingers over him, feeling his heart beat erratically. He’s beautiful. With light hair scattered throughout his broad chest. 

 

His hands reach to her white shirt. “May I?” He asks, playing with the hem of it. With her nod, he drags her sweaty shirt over her head and drops it below on the grass. 

 

Katniss realizes now, that they aren’t going back. 

 

She reaches behind her back and unhooks her bra, letting it fall down her arms. He looks at her, and licks his lips before getting on his knees. 

 

He stays there for a second and kisses her hipbone. Then, he drags her pants and underwear down her toned legs, his lips trailing as more skin is revealed. He admires each spot that’s revealed, pouring everything through his lips. 

 

Placing her hands on his shoulders, she steps out of them. Leaving her nude in the July air. 

 

Then he’s on his feet, standing there. 

 

She watches him. Watches him take in her nude form, her nipples tightening in the breezy air. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers gathering her in his arms, and lifting her. 

 

Her legs wind around his hips as he maneuvers them a few feet back. She’s pressed against the bark of a tree, not even feeling the wood dig into her skin. He quickly unbuckles his pants. Together, they push the pants and his boxer briefs to his feet.

 

And then they’re flushed, naked. Pressed against each other in the most intimate places, both their hearts beating to communicate together. It’s like their bodies knew long before their minds that they would somehow end up here. She wonders if it was inevitable. 

 

The position should hurt her back when she grinds down on him, all because he’s taken her nipple into his mouth. 

 

The bark should leave scratches when she bucks against him, after his tongue enters his mouth. When the tip of his erection catches on her clit, making her thrust against him. 

 

His fingers trail down, between her slick folds, carefully inserts two fingers inside her. Testing her.

 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs into the shell of her ear. Peeta studies her, his eyes boring into hers as he removes his fingers trying to find the bundle of nerves just north of her entrance. 

 

She moans when his fingers find her clit. It’s been so long since anyone has made her feel like this. “You’re so wet,” he tells her as if stunned. Looking down between them, he watches his fingers. “Are you always this wet?” 

 

She could come just from the velvety sound of his voice. Katniss has never wanted someone so bad in her life. 

 

“Tell me,” he urges.

 

“No,” she pants, “Just you.” She slaps her head back when he leisurely pumps two fingers inside her again. He begins to move quicker and build a rhythm. His thumb circles her clit as his fingers thrust quicker.

 

“Good,” he growls, and leans in to suck her neck.

 

She’s about to come when he removes his fingers, his hands hoist her higher as his erection begins to thrust against her. She swivels her hips, wetting him with her juices. 

 

He curses under her breath. 

 

“What,” she gasps, when he stops. 

 

“I don’t have a condom,” he groans, letting his neck hang in the slope of her neck. 

 

She feels him on her, everywhere. His cock against her, wet and throbbing. She’s never wanted-no, needed someone so bad.

 

“I trust you,” she says and he leans back to look at her. “I’m on the pill.” 

 

“I’ve only been with Madge,” he swears. And she believes him. Looking at his flushed cheeks, his blue eyes. 

 

There’s nothing about him that isn’t beautiful. 

 

He leans in and sweetly presses his lips against her. They’re soft and hard at the same time. His hands grope her bottom, clenching her cheeks tightly. She slithers her fingers through his hair, as their lips just softly linger against each other. 

 

Then he slowly enters her, inch by inch. She can feel all of him. Stretching her. Completing her. His girth opens her, and she hikes her legs higher to take him deeper because she needs to consume all of him. 

 

He groans slightly as his hips lay flush against hers. Nothing is in the air but their soft pants. Then he retracts slowly and pushes back in. He leans and kisses her. Then he bows lower, taking her nipple in his mouth, biting and sucking, as his other hand comes and kneads her other breast. 

 

“You’re so ...,” she tells him, moving her hips to meet his thrusts. 

 

He grunts, and then kisses her again, biting her lip. Awakening her from his trance. 

 

He lowers his fingers, finding the rhythm that had her close to the edge before. “You feel so good,” he tells her, watching her eyes glaze over. “So good,” he mumbles. 

 

She can feel his pace quicken into jagged thrusts. Feels him drive into her, over and over again. “Please,” she whimpers. Begging for her release. She needs it, needs him. She’s so close, right there. His fingers are circling her, making her pant. And his cock keeps hitting deep inside her, making her wetter for him. She’s so wet and slippery and delirious with want.

 

“Fuck,” he groans and bites her shoulder, thrusting harder into her. 

 

Then finally, with his fingers and his cock and his teeth, she comes around him. Pulsating. Her head thrashes back and forth, thrusting against him. Riding him to euphoria. She feels him throbbing inside, as her orgasm milks his. 

 

“I’m coming,” he gasps out, between shallow thrusts.

 

She doesn’t know when, but she’s suddenly on the ground. Peet’s looking over her, almost lovingly. His eyes are bright against the green scenery around him, inspecting her as if to make sure she’s okay. His blue gaze shines, almost tearing up. Out of regret or euphoria, she doesn’t know.

 

Katniss looks at him and his hands reach out, wordlessly to cup her cheeks. Then his lips descend on hers. 

 

And though everything has turned to a muddled mess between them, she could never regret what just happened. Because for the past eight months all she thought ever love does is die.

 

But today, she thinks she saw it begin again. 

 

* * *

 

The vodka burns down her throat. Putting the shot glass down, she walks in measured unsure steps towards the kitchen table. 

 

Gale found the pictures. All seven of them. She’s staring at pencil sketches of herself that Peeta drew during all their hikes together. Of her eyes, her smile, her silhouette standing in the sunlight. Their shadows next to each other. Close, but never touching. (Thank god.)

 

She kept them hidden. Safe. Tucked in her box of mementos that Gale never goes in- never went in. Sometimes she’d put them under her pillow, and late at night longingly trace her fingers over the lines remembering the way he looked at her while drawing them. Remember how he watched her. How he felt inside her.

 

Since that first time, they’ve been like two teenagers. And maybe they still are. Maybe they’re just adults who grew up too fast. Their hands always find one another on their Wednesday hikes. And their lips crash together towards the end. Whether it’s in the meadow in the woods or in her truck, it doesn’t matter. But that’s all it’s been. Explicit memories without the promise of more. 

 

But these pictures. They could have promised more. Maybe they were the beginning of more. Maybe they were his confession she longed to hear. 

 

They were like her own private memory. Now they’re on display, smeared across the table for anyone to look at. Guilt rears its head, hiding in the corner of the room, waiting for her to let it in. So she does, she can feel every regret seep through her pours. That she never told Gale. 

 

That she let her marriage get this rusted and decrepit. 

 

That she had sex with the married man next door.

 

That she’s in love with him.

 

The door slams from their bedroom and she can hear Gale approach, his swift feet padding angrily against the floor. 

 

“What is this?” he asks heatedly, “Tell me it’s not what I think it is.” 

 

She stares stoically at the drawings in front of her and stays silent.

 

“It’s not what you think,” she whispers, already longing to touch the pictures. 

 

Gale twists her arms back. “Then what is it?”

 

“It’s just some drawings he made when we went hiking. It’s nothing,” she dismisses, fighting the bile swirling in her stomach. 

 

“How long has this been going on?” When Katniss remains silent, Gale repeats himself, “How long, Katniss?”

 

“I don’t know two months? Three?”

 

Gale laughs bitterly, “Three months? You’ve been with Peeta fucking Mellark behind my back for three months?!” 

 

“It’s not like that!” she defends, squaring her shoulders. “You’re the one who originally pushed me to spend time with him!” 

 

“Do you think I’m an idiot!” His voice erupts the house, ricocheting along the poorly insulated walls. 

 

His eyes search hers, but all he’ll see is cold steel eyes, outlined by fury. His voice breaks, “Are you sleeping with him?” 

 

“How dare you ask me that,” she spits with venom. Her heart beats erratically, training her far to remain stoic. 

 

“It’s a simple question! Are you a slut or not?!” 

 

“You don’t get to say that!” she yells. “You don’t get to ask if I’m sleeping with him when you were with her.” 

 

“Johanna Mason is out of my life, Katniss! She’s been out of it fo-” 

 

“You have no idea- w-what I’ve been through,” she cuts him off, her voice quaking and thick with painful emotion. 

 

“Prim’s been dead for a year! It’s time to move on.” He’s trying to be reasonable and soft, but his words are harsh slapping her in the face. 

 

Instinctively her hand reaches out and slaps him, his face turning with the force of her palm. Making him feel as threatened as she just did. His face turns around. Violent eyes meet hers and he grabs her face, trying to kiss her. To dominate her. 

 

She bites his tongue when it slithers into her mouth and pushes him off her. Tears threatening to pool down her cheeks, but she’s stronger than that. Stronger than what Gale wants her to be. 

 

“Don’t touch me!” she shrieks when he tries to step closer. “Don’t you dare touch me!” 

 

Katniss pivots around him and beelines for the back door, slamming it in her wake. She gets three, maybe four steps away from her house, before she falls in a heap on the ground. Crying for her baby sister. Wishing that she were here, so she could call her, run to her. But instead she’s curled into a ball on the wet August grass. She hears doors slam from inside her house, mentally wincing when she hears the car start and screech out of the driveway. 

 

She wishes she took another shot, just so she could sleep right here and forget tonight even happened. 

 

She hears his walk before she sees him. His loud, uneven steps that march toward her and then he drops to her side. Before she knows it, she’s pulled into his arms, gathered like a child. So she climbs into his lap, burrowing her head into his chest, as everything leaks out. Katniss can feel his shirt wetting beneath her eyes. But his shirt is so soft, and he smells so like him. 

 

Like spiced cinnamon and fresh linen and acrylic paint, his distinct scent that she’s craved to revel in for so long. 

 

She doesn’t know how long they’re like that, with Peeta’s hands running small circles on her back. It’s comforting and reassuring. She pulls away, wiping her nose with her arm, and trying to stifle her sniffles. 

 

“How much did you hear?” She pulls away and moves next to him, realizing now that the ground is wet. She looks ahead of her, at the trees in her back yard, looks anywhere but at him. 

 

“Enough,” he confesses, staring intently at her. 

 

She nods and runs her hair down her braid. She can feel how matted and loose it’s gotten. So, Katniss quickly unplaits it, gathering the hair in her hands she begins to deftly re-braid it, when his hands smooth over hers. She looks at him, but he’s looking at her hair. He runs his fingers through her tresses, gently combing them and then letting her chestnut hair fall in waves down her back. 

 

The way he looks at her though. That’s what thrills Katniss. He looks at her like she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Like the most important thing. Maybe it’s the vodka, or maybe it’s her regret from earlier. But for whatever reason, she twists onto her knees, and slowly leans in. Even though they’re outside for anyone to see.

 

She instinctively closes her eyes, and he does too. Sucks in his breath and quickly wets his lips. Then they touch, lightly. As if too afraid to actually close the distance. Terrified that if they pressed to hard the other would disappear. At least that’s what she thought. But she lines her tongue against his lips, and he opens his mouth slowly. Finally letting her in. He pulls her tongue in between his teeth, biting on it, making her moan. 

 

They sit their for minutes, for hours. Pouring their could-be life into that kiss. Then suddenly it’s over and he’s pulling back, regret flittering his features. She hates it. 

 

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, leaning away from her. “I shouldn’t have kissed you that day. I shouldn’t have said anything.” 

 

“What?” she asks, whiplashed from one moment of bliss to another of dread. Her stomach drops in a tangent. 

 

“I’ve ruined everything between us. Between you and Gale. We’re married to other people, Katniss,” he reasons, running his hands through his hair and releasing a frustrated sigh. 

 

“I don’t love Gale. I don’t think I ever did and I think…” she pauses gauging his reaction. “I don’t think you love Madge either.”

 

His gaze snaps to hers, and Katniss watches Peeta like prey. How he stands still, silent. 

 

“I made a vow to her,” he whispers, reaching as if to touch her cheek before thinking better of it. “I’m sorry… I have to go.” 

 

He stands promptly, in one fluid motion. She watches him smooth his clothes out one more time. So she stands too, a lot less gracefully than he did. It’s ironic, because all those times on the hiking trails she was the graceful one, while he was clumsy. 

 

But she stands and stares at his form. “Will you be okay?” 

 

She nods, forgetting that he can’t see her. “Yes.” 

 

She always is. 

* * *

 

 

Gale’s gone. 

 

He’s been gone for three weeks. 

 

Now, Katniss is packing her stuff and getting ready to move on with her life. She needs to grow, to change. Prim would want her to leave, to get on with it. She’s spent the past year mourning her little sister’s death, and now it’s time to leave the past behind. 

 

The mail is on the kitchen counter and she reaches for it, swiftly sorting Gale’s and her things. Then, scratched writing catches her attention. She opens the envelope with shaking hands. 

 

It’s a picture of her. Drawn so life like she swears she’s staring in the mirror. A picture of her from their first time together. 

 

She’s standing nude, while the shaded in forest is behind her. Her face is flushed and beautiful. 

 

Is this how he sees her?

 

She traces her fingers over it and looks at the back of the paper. 

 

In his scribbled handwriting: three simple words. 

* * *

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